


One of Those Things

by justbygrace



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, F/M, Probably Crack lbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4106443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by one of those AU Posts that go around and too much Harry Potter fanfic and the fact that I'm supposed to be writing a paper on my Philosophy of ECE.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Those Things

The problem with being drunk and lonely on a Tuesday night when one is a fairly-powerful Wizard is that sometimes things happen which you don't expect. At least that's what John realized Wednesday morning when he woke up with a full-body ache and a tremendous craving for flies. It took him a lot longer than someone who had graduated with full marks in all his N.E.W.T.S. - but especially Transfiguration - to realize what had happened and longer still to hop out of bed and set about navigating the house from about the same level as the baseboards.

Thankfully he had a standing Wednesday morning breakfast date with his best mate Rose and when he failed to arrive at the crepe shop on the corner she apparated into his living room. To her credit she didn't scream or cry or faint at the sight of him, but that might have had more to do with being present for some of his more...exciting life adventures since they'd met in the last compartment of the Hogwarts Express at age 11. Thankfully his powers of speech hadn't been robbed (even though his voice was dreadfully high-pitched and squeaky) and he was able to explain that there might be a tiny hiccup in the reverse spell she was currently attempting to perform on him. 

His definition of tiny hiccup and hers were different, but she _had_ been his best mate for going on twelve years and that came with certain prerequisites, like promising him to assist him in the mission to find his One True Love so that he could go back to a normal life that involved previously taken-for-granted things like feet and hair and noses and the ability to eat actual food with a knife and fork. She extracted an apology from him as well, of course, a sincere apology that involved lots of "I'm so sorrys" and "I promise I'll make it up to you" and "We can go on a vacation after this" and "We can get Chinese food whenever you want and I'll never complain" but in the end she accepted and took him back to her tiny flat because "Really John? You're tiny and you hop, you can't live alone, stop arguing with me."

She called off work for her and, with some difficulty, for him as well, explaining that he had contracted a strange disease and yes, they were off to St Mungo's immediately. As soon as she hung up she rolled her eyes at his suggestion that they begin the process of Searching for Love, and insisted they relax with some Telly because "no one is out at eleven in the morning looking for anything long-term." He didn't ask how she knew that and instead settled in, as comfortably as he could on a precarious stack of pillows and tried to focus on the drama on the screen. 

The first evening didn't go as well as he hoped and it wasn't just because "only the desperate sort go out on Wednesdays." Though several souls were convinced by a sweet-talking Rose that they should kiss him, by midnight he was feeling a bit nauseous from the second-hand taste of smoke and alcohol and regret and who knew frogs had such good taste buds? The second night went only slightly better, he actually felt a bit of tingling on his spine from one kiss with a handsome gentleman (on Rose's insistence), but when the clock struck midnight he was ready to go home where he could lie on the edge of Rose's bed and doze fretfully in-between watching her sleep - it was a beautiful thing, the sight of her soft eyelashes resting delicately against her skin, her mouth curved in a slight smile as if she dreamed of peaceful things, her hands clasped under her cheek and it was the only highlight of his life, especially when Friday morning came and Rose explained that she had to return to work because "everything is piling up and new cases don't stop just because of curses gone wrong."

The weekend's venue trolling was a sheer disaster starting with the first possible mark shrieking and tossing John carelessly across the room to the moment where he almost became a tasty snack for a passing Rottweiler and by Sunday afternoon, John was quite done with clubs, pubs, bars, and the like. He was almost considering suggesting they put up a profile online, surely a Wizard dating site would include cases such as this, when Rose announced that being the designating matchmaker sucked and she was getting colossally drunk and did he want to join in? He wasn't sure if frog's could get drunk, but a cold Old Ogden's sounded wonderful and he settled in to discreetly lap at the dish she set down for him while Rose swallowed one after another of her own pints, and wept over the latest drama of Nautilus Druthers P.I. 

By 11:45, John was curled up on Rose's chest (a spot he discovered he liked very much) and she was softly stroking his back and explaining that "Nautilus _needs_ to be with Diego, John! She needs to be. It's true love, destiny, fate. Look how perfect they are together." And so he looked, not at the screen where Diego was cold-heartedly focusing on autopsy and not on how Nautilus was "practically wasting away from pining," but at the face he'd first laid eyes on when he was a scared little boy with no idea how he was supposed to hold up fifteen generations of pure-blooded history and she was a frightened little girl with no idea why strange things happened around her. And so he did what he'd wanted to do that long-ago day on the train and kissed her. 

Looking back he never did quite remember how the change felt, one moment he had his wide, cold froggy lips pressed to Rose's and the next he was sprawled, quite naked over top of his best mate and he had his (perfectly normal sized, ta) tongue inside her mouth and she was scraping her fingernails down her back and he was working the buttons of her shirt and everything was gloriously hot and wet and perfect and he was never happier that he had definitely-not-for-granted fingers and hands that he could devote exclusively to her.

There was a lot of things that could go wrong when one was drunk and alone on Tuesdays, but apparently quite a lot could go right when one was drunk and together on Sunday night and when he woke up Monday morning with a pounding headache and a very naked Rose Tyler curled into his very human side, he took a moment to categorize every single one of those things. Number 396 managed to wake up Rose and number 475 had her falling over the edge and he lost count in the mid 600's because she threw her arms around him and kissed him and promised something that sounded very much like forever.


End file.
